


St. Elmo's Fire (Steve Harrington)

by Moikeybear



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse Mentions, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Character Death in first chapter, Character Deaths, Cigarette Smoking, Death, Depictions of Abuse, Depictions of paranoia, F/M, Gore, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Major Spoilers, Multi, Original Character(s), PTSD mentions, Season 1 Spoilers, Season 2 spoilers, Season 3 Spoilers, Swearing, Trauma, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, death of a child, depictions of flashbacks, grieving characters, major character deaths, mental illness mentions, mentions of billy and hopper, mentions of trauma, one character questions if they might be schizophrenic, semi-graphic to graphic depictions of death, several characters are depicted as intoxicated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-08-11 19:36:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20158969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moikeybear/pseuds/Moikeybear
Summary: After her father gets a job offer in Hawkins, Sarah Holbrook is uprooted from her childhood home. There she meets Steve Harrington, who teaches her that she doesn’t have to deal with her trauma on her own.(Or)Poorly written multi-part fic because I’m on a Stranger Things kick and saw an opening.I do not own any of the characters, outside of the Holbrook family. The monster portrayed was inspired by Stephen King’s IT. Said monster is depicted similarly to IT.





	1. Before: Part One

1  
September 18, 1984  
Saint Hill, Indiana   
Sarah Holbrook 

To the outside world, the Holbrook family seemed like a normal family. David was the Saint Hill deputy chief, and Loretta owned Holbrook realty. Their children were young and healthy- Sarah with her 4.0 GPA and Daniel with his love of roller-skating. All-in-all, they were a perfect, all-American, nuclear family. Happy and normal.   
However, despite whatever the outside world thought of their family, it didn’t change what happened behind closed doors, and it certainly didn’t help them achieve actual normalcy any sooner. No, it didn’t change the fact that David Holbrook was a drunk who beat his wife and children- or at least he had been, until he pushed Sarah down the stairs and fractured her skull. Now the Holbrooks’ in-home bar, which had once been meticulously stocked with a variety of different alcohols, was only stocked whenever they had out of town visitors.   
The Holbrooks now lived a life of monotony, of which they indulged in the image they had crafted for the town of Saint Hill, Indiana. Their lives became a routine- where Tuesday nights were reserved for Loretta to go out with her girlfriends (where, behind her husband's back, she’d mix her reds and her whites) and David worked late shifts to avoid going to the bars. Tuesday nights were reserved for Sarah and Danny to curl up on the couch and watch Three’s Company, and it had been this way for several years now.   
This particular Tuesday had been different, as the end that Sarah and Danny had been waiting for had come: The series finale of Three’s Company was to air that night, and god forbid either of them miss it.   
Sarah sat impatiently on the couch, brown eyes carefully trained on the television screen as she awaited for her younger brother to come down the stairs. Her heart thrummed quietly in her chest, and some form of dread stirred in the pit of her stomach. Seven years of her life were coming to a quiet end. The theme song began to play, and a sense of worry struck Sarah.   
“Damn it,” She murmured, lifting herself off of the couch and crossing the room. She went through her parents room- a shortcut that the kids only used when their parents weren’t home- and stood at the bottom of the stairs.   
She called up the stairs, “Danny, c’mon! It’s starting!” She heard a faint thud come from the upstairs hallway- which she imagined was Danny tripping over something- and seconds later, the thirteen year old was scrambling down the stairs. They both rushed through their parents room, pushing each other to get to the couch first, sitting down just as the theme song came to an end.   
“Hey, pass me a blanket, will ya?” Danny asked, pulling his legs up to his chest. Sarah looked at him, then passed him the creme and brown blanket their mother kept on the arm of the couch.   
They sat in silence, watching as their mutually beloved sitcom wrapped up. Sarah wondered if Danny remembered when they had first started watching it- she doubted it, as he had only been six at the time. She wondered if he too sat there and thought about all the times they had to shut the television off before the episode had even ended and scramble up to their bedrooms before their father- who often was too drunk to see straight- returned home. She thinks about the time that David had returned home sooner than expected, smelling strongly of whiskey and Heineken, to find ten year old Sarah and her little brother on the couch watching television. He had been fuming by the time he had reached them, and once he had, he ripped Sarah out of her seat by the root of her hair and slapped her so hard that the sickening smack had echoed through the home. She was grateful that her father no longer drank- she had no idea how many times she could getting whooped before she had snapped. Nonetheless, she kept her mouth shut and her eyes on the TV. 

2

That Friday, Sarah finds herself sitting in her car, waiting silently for Danny to get out of school. Denice Williams’ “Let’s Hear It for the Boy” played softly in the background as she stared aimlessly out the window. This was a daily routine for Sarah, one of million monotonous routines her family lived by. She had seventh period off, and she spent it waiting for Danny to get off, before driving them home. Often, if she had the money, she would take the young boy to the local gas station for a cola drink and some candy. On special days, she would take him to the diner for a malt and a burger. Other than their Tuesday nights watching Three’s Company, it was their thing.   
Fridays, however, were a different kind of special. Fridays for the Holbrook family were reserved, just as Tuesdays were reserved, for dinner. It was the only time during the week that all four members of the family would be home for dinner- David made it a point to not work late in order to uphold tradition. Every Friday night the family gathered around the dining table, where they’d eat dinner and discuss the week. Then, they’d all gather in the living room and watch some show on the television.   
“1977 called, they want their music back.” Danny teased from the passenger seat. Sarah jumped, head spinning to meet the sight of her younger brother.   
She hissed in his direction, “You can’t scare my like that!” He only laughed in response, tossing his backpack into the back seat as the older girl started the car. ‘  
“Also,” She informed him, “this song came out in May, dingus.” The boy held his hands up in surrender, and the two took off towards home. 

3

During the week, David Holbrook would work until midnight, return home, and go to work at eight o’clock the next morning. On Friday’s, he would come home at five o’clock and go to sit in the Holbrook’s designated smoking room until dinner was ready. On that particular Friday, dinner wasn’t done until forty-five minutes later.   
“Sarah?” Loretta Holbrook called into the dining room, where Sarah was finishing setting the table, “will you go tell Danny dinner is done?”   
Sarah glanced up from the table, “Yeah.” Sarah sat down the last of the silverware, and made her way upstairs to Danny’s room.   
She knocked gently on the door, “Dinner’s ready, Bubba.” She heard the faint sound of Danny closing his school books, and waited as he padded to the door. Together, they walked down the stairs, and took their places at the dining table. The family clasped hands and said grace- they maintained the image of a good Christian family alongside all their other images- before beginning their meal.   
Halfway through, David looked up from his plate of chicken, his dark brown eyes meeting with Sarah’s. There was no anger in his face, yet it was more terrifying to the girl than any horror movie that could ever be produced.   
“Can you take Danny to the roller rink tomorrow? Your mother and I have dinner plans that night.”  
“Sure,” Sarah agreed softly, “sounds good.” A memory flashed through her head- one of her at seven years old, pathetically trying to push her drunken father away from her mother, only to receive a slap in the face that had made her head spin- and she subconsciously flinched.   
The family went on with their night, never acknowledging the silent fear Sarah harboured deep within her. As far as the Holbrook’s were concerned, any part of the alcohol-induced terror had been locked in a closet and nailed shut. 

4   
November 30th, 1984 

Two months later, Sarah and Danny find themselves in the car once more. They had spent a little more than four hours at the Saint Hill roller rink, and had only stopped due to the growling of their stomachs. The clock on the dashboard signified that it was eight o’clock, and it wouldn’t be until twelve minutes later that they would arrive at Mary’s Diner.   
The Saint Hill roller rink, known to the residents of the town as ‘Saint’s Rink’, was no more then twenty minutes from the Holbrook’s home. It was arguably the most popular spots in town, aside from Mary’s and the drive-in.   
Sarah glanced over at Danny, who sat slumped against the door tiredly, “You have fun?”   
“Yep.” He mumbled, yawning softly into his hand.   
“Hey,” She shut off the stereo playing softly in the background, “do ya wanna go to the mall tomorrow? We could do christmas shopping?”   
Before Danny can even open his mouth to answer, the screech of squealing tires cuts through the night air, and the car is spinning on the road as another car smashes into the passenger side.  
“Danny!” Sarah screams, but the sound is covered by glass shattering. The car rolls off the road, landing tire-side-up into a ditch. Sarah’s head shoots forward, slamming into the steering wheel and rendering her unconscious.   
When she finally comes to, it's more than twenty minutes later, and Sarah feels as if she’s stuck in some horrible nightmare. Her head is swimming, and there’s a sharp pain in her torso. Beside her, Danny’s body is slumped over, motionless and cold. She can barely get her eyes to focus long enough to assess the damage. She reaches over slowly.   
“Bubba? You good?” Her eyes begin to focus, just enough that she can start to make out the boy. His skin is pale, as if all the life had been drained from him. Even now, Sarah doesn’t register the situation. Out of the haze, she makes out the shape of a piece of shrapnel which has lodged itself into Danny’s side. There’s another piece in his shoulder, and a third sticking out of his thigh which mocks her. There’s blood pooling around the puncture sites, and she reaches to touch them.   
She whispers, her voice wavering, “Bubba?” There is no answer.   
“Danny, c’mon. Stop playing around.”   
“Danny?” She’s met with silence once again, and before she can even think her hand is flying up to check his pulse. He was gone. 

5  
David Holbrook 

David Holbrook sat in the police chief’s office, a cigarette perched between his teeth. The police scanner crackled in the background, forming the perfect definition of radio silence.   
The radio crackled to life as a voice came through the static, “Hey, I’m gonna need an ambulance on Mullen. There’s been an accident. Two cars, both flipped.”   
“Any sign of life?” Another voice.   
“Harry Davidson, probably drunk again. He’s passed out. I don’t know about the other car.” There was a five second silence before the same voice came through once more.   
“Shit, no.”   
Chief Holt reached forward, lifting the mouthpiece up, “What’s the situation Hammond?”   
“It’s Holbrook’s kids, Chief. Don’t look good, either.”   
David’s heart sunk into his stomach, and he prepared himself for the worst. 

Sarah Holbrook 

They told her that Danny likely didn’t feel much pain. They say that he probably died due to shock, and that he was probably unconscious on impact. Sarah doesn’t believe them though, because they said that it was a miracle that Sarah made it out with only a bit of damage, and it didn’t quite feel like a damn miracle. She didn’t care about the cracked ribs, or the concussion. Hell, it didn’t matter that she barely had feeling in her left arm- the numbness plagued her, and feeling would only come like waves lapping at the shore. She did care, however, that Danny had lost his life. That he would never even make it to his fourteenth birthday, or Christmas.   
The town of Saint Hill gathered a week later at St. Charles’s church, all clad in black and covered in thin veils of mourning. It had been a tragedy, one that would haunt the town for years to come.   
Twenty years from this, they would still be talking about how little Daniel Holbrook- loved by all, as if he were the sun- had died at the hands of Harry Davidson. They would talk about how the once perfect family seemed a little less perfect after the boy died, and how screwed up Sarah Holbrook was after the accident.   
Nonetheless, they all sat inside the church- of which Danny had attended regularly- and listened to their priest tell them about how Danny was now in a better place. The Holbrook’s sat towards the front, sitting silently as the priest droned on. Loretta wept quietly into David’s shoulder as he held her, neither paying any mind to their daughter. Sarah sat despondently beside her father, eyes frozen on Danny’s casket. He looked eerily peaceful.  
“Sarah, you said you had a few words to say?” Father Thompson called from the front. Sarah tore her eyes away from her brother, and nodded quickly. The priest waved her up, and she made her way to the podium.   
She took a breath, and stared straight into the back, “There’s a lot I could say about my brother. I could tell you that he was loved, and I could tell you that he was such a good kid. But you already know that. I could even go as far as telling you that this is a horrible thing that happened, but you know that too. But you don’t really know, do you?   
Danny was my best friend. I loved him so damn much. And he had potential. But all of that was snuffed because of some drunk. He was only thirteen years old, and he won’t even get to do anything he had planned.   
He won’t get to celebrate his birthday, or open his gifts one last time. He won’t ever get to go to Saint’s again, and he won’t ever get to stay up on Tuesday nights again to watch Three’s Company- even if they were reruns.   
There’s nothing I can say that will do him justice. But I can say that I hope he’s okay, wherever he is. Thank you.” She scanned her eyes over the crowd, numbness washing over her as she walked back to her seat. As she sank into the hard wood pew, the reality of the situation hit like a brick wall. Tears threatened to spill, and though all she wanted to do was cry, she squeezed her eyes shut to keep them at bay. She was alone now, and nothing could change that. 

6 

Sarah Holbrook jerked awake, the sound of the front door echoing through the Holbrook’s home. She knew that sound- the earth-shattering slam of the front door shutting- and the terror brought. David Holbrook was angry, and most definitely drunk. She hissed to herself, throwing the soft pink quilt off of her as she climbed out of bed. Soft tapping noises, just barely covered by the sound of her father’s hollering downstairs, sounded from her door. When she opened it, she was met with the sight of Danny, who at six years old had grown to know what this meant..  
“I’m scared,” He whispered. He had tears in his eyes, and all she wanted to do was take him away from this hellhole.   
She crouched down to look at him, “I know, I know. Come on.” He entered, and she lead him to the closet.   
“You know what to do, right?”   
“Yes,” His lower lip quivered, and anger roared in her chest, “lock the door behind you and then hide in the closet.”   
She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “Good.” She turned away from him, closing the door and rushing down stairs- just in time to hear the glass bottle smash against the kitchen wall.  
Sarah pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she stared coldly at her closet door. She thought about the countless times she or Danny had sought shelter there- she had hidden Danny there so often as a child she eventually had supplied it with blankets and pillows, and even a flashlight. The memories felt so far away, like they had sunk to the bottom of some ocean and miraculously re-surfaced hours later. She shuddered, shoving the memories of her father shoving her into the full body mirror in the hallway away.   
“Shit,” She muttered, biting her lip. She could feel tears swelling once more, threatening to spill down her sheets and onto her pajama bottoms. Sarah wished she could cry, longing to let every emotion she had felt since her brother had died. But she couldn’t. She had to stay strong for her parents. She blinked away the tears, refocusing on the closet. Suddenly, it didn’t feel so evil anymore- it now seemed to be the safe place she had hidden all those years ago. She lifted herself off of the bed and padded over to the enclosed space, reaching for the doorknob. She hesitates, but only for a moment, then enters the space and shuts the door behind her.   
She sinks down into the darkness, back pressed against the cool wood door as she pulls the soft blue blankets into her lap. As if that’s all she needed, tears begin to fall, flowing down her cheeks in a seemingly endless river. Her shoulders wracked with sobs, and she let go of the pain. Slowly, the tears came to an end as she realized that she would eventually be okay- she and the closet would always have the memories of the hidden, guilt filled tears, but she would be okay.


	2. Before: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Harrington is a sappy bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No triggers as far as I can remember. Stay safe :)

1  
September 1985  
Hawkins, Indiana  
Steve Harrington 

Steve Harrington never thought that he’d be spending what was meant to be his first year of college working a dead-end job at the Family Video in Hawkins. Of course, he never thought there was such thing as monsters or alternate dimensions either. Working for Family Video wasn’t so bad, he supposed, as long as his co-worker- the legendary Robin Buckley- was there to keep him sane.  
He and Robin had been working at the video store for a few weeks now, and they mostly spent it stocking shelves or talking about whatever was going on in Hawkins at the time. But Robin would be starting her senior year soon, and Steve would most likely get stuck working on his own.  
Robin hefted a stack of movies onto the counter, grunting irritably at him. He smirked at her, earning an eye roll and the middle finger.  
“I swear, if they keep playing this Phil Collins bullshit, I’m going to personally call El up and ask her to snap my neck.” She hissed in his direction.  
He chuckled, “Trust me, the feelings mutual.” He lifted Back To the Future off of the top of the stack, snickering at the memories- realistically, he should have winced, as being drugged by evil Russians wasn’t the fondest memory- before holding it up for Robin to see. Her eyes widened, and she ripped it from his hands.  
“No way,”She shook the VHS case around in the air, “we gotta rent it!” Steve pushed himself onto the counter (it wouldn’t matter, as they had closed just twenty minutes before.  
“Do we even have to rent it? We work here.”  
“Good point. I’ll take the top half, you take the bottom?” Steve nodded, and watched Robin lift the top half of the movies off of the large pile and set it onto the counter. He hopped off the counter once more, handing Robin the ledger as they began to catalog the new movies. 

2 

When Saturday rolls around, Steve finds himself home alone. He’s unsure of what to do with himself- this is the first time since he had started at the video store that he hadn’t spent his day off with Robin. He supposed he should call her up, they could rent a film and she could crash here without assuming parents.  
He pushed himself to sit up on the couch, dialing the Buckley household on their landline. It rang twice, before Robin picked up.  
“Hello?” She asked, and he could imagine her boredly picking at the horrid floral wallpaper her parents had in the kitchen.  
He leaned against the arm of the couch, “Hey. It’s Steve.”  
“Oh,” She murmured, “hey, Harrington.”  
“Wanna come over? We can rent Back To the Future.”  
“Let me ask.” There was a minute of silence in which Steve pictured her turning to her parents to ask- her father would be reading the paper and smoking a cigar, while her mother would be cooking some kind of bland dinner (probably meatloaf, it was easy.)  
Her voice flooded the phone again, “Will this be sleeping over endeavour?”  
“Of course.”  
“See you soon.” 

3 

When Steve and Robin began hanging around each other as often as they do now, everyone had some questions. Typically, both of them would have been quick to put out any concept of them being together, but they saw the advantage of going along with it. Robin no longer had to fear being found out- no longer had to worry about conversion therapy that her parents would pray “cured” her. They didn’t necessarily confirm the fact that they were “dating,” but they didn’t scramble to correct the assuming audience. However, it often came as a relief to the pair when Steve’s parents went out of town, as they could spend time away from the image that they had created.  
Sometime later, Steve and Robin are standing in his bathroom, brushing their teeth as Steve made faces at Robin. The girl, who stood wearing one of Steve’s tee-shirts she had stolen from him and pajama bottoms, struggled to keep the toothpaste in her mouth. Steve wiggled his brows at her, leaning down to spit into the sink.  
“Back to the Future is a lot less weird than I remember it being,” He wipes the excess toothpaste from the corner of his mouth.  
Robin stops brushing her teeth for a second, “Must’ve been the drugs.” Steve shrugged, padding into his bedroom and pulling the covers down on his bed. Just as he’s slipping into bed, Robin joins him, climbing into the other side. She lays down, rolling to face away from Steve. He watched her for a moment, before staring up at his ceiling.  
An hour passes before he speaks, “Hey, Robin?” She doesn’t respond, prompting him to roll over, to face the other direction. Most nights that she sleeps in his bed, he doesn’t feel empty. But for the first time in the two months that she’s been sleeping over, he longs for someone. He isn’t sure who, but he knows that they’re someone who could love him. First time in what seems like months, he wishes he could share his bed with someone he loved more than a friend. 

4 

The next morning, Steve is cocooned into the back corner of the store- which contained several adult films- stacking returns back into their places on the shelf. Phil Collins is playing on the radio again, and it makes him want to smash his head into the ceiling-high shelves. Robin is nowhere to be found and he vaguely recalls her wandering into the children’s section to stack returns there.  
There’s a heavy air in the shop today- neither Steve or Robin can figure out where to place the blame, but he doubts it’s his lack of sleep. No, he can feel that Robin is starting to realize how dull their lives have become since July.  
He stares blankly at the stack of adult films he has to re-shelf, and then lifts himself off of the ground. He crosses the store to the kids section, where he finds Robin reading a magazine she took from the front desk (on slow days, they often sat around and read the magazines that they hid under the counter).  
He holds back a snort, “What ya reading?”  
“People,” She looks up from the magazine to show him, and he sits down beside her.  
“Let me see,” He gently takes it from her hands, “‘has rock gone too far?’” He uses a mocking, faux newscaster voice which makes her laugh.  
“Are you gonna forget about me when you go back to school?” The words escape his lips before he even gets the chance to stop them, and like that, some sort of barrier breaks between them. This has happened twice before, where some invisible barrier- which Steve imagines is the bathroom stall in Starcourt Mall- was shattered, letting a flood of vulnerability drown them. But this time, it’s different. This time, they don’t have someone (or something) trying to kill them as the walls come down. Three minutes pass, which the silence makes it seem like an eternity.  
“No, I really couldn’t.” 

5  
They find themselves sitting by the pool that night, speaking casually of the future. Robin’s legs are laying across Steve’s lap, and his feet are dangling in the pool. They’re passing a cigarette- which is a rarity in their lives now- between themselves as they talk, the familiar dizzy sensation flooding their senses.  
Robin giggles,”If I have to work one more fucking day in that video store, I’m gonna lose it.”  
“Hey, shush, it’s not so bad. You have me,” He chides.  
“Exactly.” Steve takes the cigarette from her, putting it between his lips and inhaling. Robin looks at him for a second before standing up. He looks up at her, exhaling bitter smoke just as she steps forward and jumps into the pool. There’s a splash which hits his legs, and he lets out a laugh. Robin pops up from under the water, and shoots him a glare.  
“What did I do?” He asks, dragging the butt against the pavement as he gets up from the ground.  
She pushes her hair back, “Existed, dingus.” Steve strips his shirt off, before diving into the pool to accompany her.  
When he comes up from the water, he turns to her, “Do you think things will become…not so dull?”  
“Maybe,” Robin makes her way to the other side of the pool, “that would be interesting.”  
“It would.” He pushes water in her direction. She laughs loudly, splashing him in retaliation. As the night came to an end, a new sense of hope formed inside them. One that hoped for something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so so sorry I haven’t uploaded chapter two yet. I have it ready to be uploaded, but I’ve been trying to write chapter three before I post the second one so I have back up chapters. Unfortunately, I don’t know when I will finish with the third chapter. I’ve been at a standstill for a while now. First with writers block, then with school starting, and now, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get back to writing. Last Tuesday, I went into the emergency room due to severe chest pain and nausea, and since then I’ve been in and out of hospitals and doctors appointments trying to make sense of what’s going on. It’s been a miserable, exhausting week and as of right now, I don’t see it ending. I will try my best to put chapters out but please be patient with me. Thank you, Pidge.
> 
> Check it out on Tumblr at tiredofalltheseghostboys !

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @ thetaeway (Tumblr) for editing and reading this. I can't wait to write the rest of the series with you.   
Thank you to @ voltrontrxsh (Tumblr) for being my first reader and always supporting me. 
> 
> Check it out on tumblr! @ tiredofalltheseghostboys


End file.
